<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>cocooned by ivelostmyspectacles</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120950">cocooned</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles'>ivelostmyspectacles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Jonelias Week (The Magnus Archives), M/M, gentle touching, let them rest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:09:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon feels his body crumble into the touch; he leans his cheek into the support of Elias’s hand and briefly, so briefly, lets his eyes fall closed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Sims/Elias Bouchard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jonelias Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cocooned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, that stops him from leaving the Institute at the time he <em> should, </em> at the time everyone else did, but Jon– as it’s nearing nine at night– is beginning to <em> despise </em> it. He tells himself it’s to avoid rush hour, it’s to catch up on the disarray of information he’s found shoved into every crack and crevice, that it’s just his ambition prompting him to get at least one more statement done, that he needs the quiet to work faster. Maybe those are true, but…</p><p>He’s beginning to think it’s something else, and he isn’t sure he wants to know what that might be.</p><p>But he’s tired. There’s been a headache building beneath his skull from the moment he’d come in this morning; the quick after-lunch nap hadn’t done much to alleviate it, and neither had Martin’s endless cups of tea. He needs to… he needs to finish these endnotes. </p><p>He <em> really </em> needs to go home.</p><p>It’s just a few more follow-up sentences that need committed to tape, but Jon suddenly <em> can’t, </em> just then. So he tugs his glasses off instead, tries to scrub the sleep from his eyes. It doesn’t really work; he wants something caffeinated and more painkillers. He wants to sleep. He needs to work.</p><p>“Jon?”</p><p>The voice at the door startles him; it isn’t Martin, like he occasionally expects these days. Despite him living in the archives, he seems to keep far enough to himself when Jon stays late. Every now and then, an occasional offer for a cup of tea. Early on, the idea of sharing a pizza. But maybe Jon’s turned him down enough by now, he doesn’t know. Maybe Martin just goes to bed early.</p><p>It’s <em> Elias </em> at the door, which is so surprising in itself that it takes Jon a few moments to stop slouching and gather his thoughts enough to sit up. He doesn’t put his glasses back on, but he can still see Elias frowning at him from here.</p><p>“Apologies. I saw the light but assumed you’d just forgotten to turn it off.” He glances at his watch, pushing a sleeve up just enough to catch the time. “It’s half nine, Jon.”</p><p>He startles at that, too, certain it hadn’t been… that late. But his own clock betrays him, ticking away up there on the wall, innocent and taunting. Jon glares at it, and then looks back at Elias. “So it is.” It’s a lacklustre as hell response. He just wants to put his head down on the desk for a moment.</p><p>“We can only pay you so much overtime, Jon.”</p><p>He laughs once, wry, then shakes his head. “I’m not worried about the money.” Well, he is, but the usual cheque tends to cover most things and… financing is not where he wants to be, right now. “I just… have a lot of catching up to do.”</p><p>“And I appreciate the effort,” Elias says. He’s closer now, in Jon’s office proper, stopping by his desk to look down at him. The frown is still there, but it’s softened now by concern, and Jon feels himself sag a little lower in his chair. “But, frankly, Jon, you look like hell.”</p><p>“I’m just tired.”</p><p>“Even still. We can’t have you working yourself into the ground.”</p><p>Elias <em> touches </em> him, then, the heel of his hand at his jaw, and in the moment it’s so surprising that it ought to give Jon that burst of energy he needs. They are mostly professional at work, and Elias has never been overly affectionate notwithstanding. It’s not something Jon minds; the opposite, in fact, fraught with so many hang-ups about romance and relationships. So even though it’s far past office hours, far, far too late for either of them to be here at all, Elias openly acting like this ought to spur him up and on to finish the last of his work and see himself home.</p><p>But instead, traitorously, Jon feels his body crumble into the touch; he leans his cheek into the support of Elias’s hand and briefly, so briefly, lets his eyes fall closed. It is quiet and comfort, and he is at bliss.</p><p>It lasts for a few, peaceful moments, until Elias speaks again.</p><p>“Go home, Jon.”</p><p>It shatters that tiny, terrible moment of security, the one where he wants so badly to utterly give into. Just as well. He’s got this to finish. So Jon’s already shaking his head when he pulls back, even if he has to clear his throat before he can speak again. “I just– I just need to finish this.” He gestures vaguely, and starts gathering the research into something more organized to read aloud. Busy work to keep him conscious for a little while longer.</p><p>He doesn’t expect Elias to relent, and he’s surprised when he does. “… very well, then,” he says. “But I want you to leave before ten. Barring that, sleep <em> here </em> if you must. Just, please, make sure you get <em> some </em> rest.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Jon.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“Promise me.”</p><p>“I…” There’s that quiet, austere look on Elias’s face. The usual one, the face he wears when he’s being the Head of The Magnus Institute. But below that is still concern, a gentle anxiety and <em> care </em> that Jon’s still so unused to having directed at <em> him. </em> It’s… nice, actually. “… promise,” he murmurs, and he means it.</p><p>“Good,” Elias says, and the praise warms Jon all the way to the tips of his toes. “Now, that taken care of…”</p><p>“Yes–”</p><p>“I’ll be heading out myself, I think.”</p><p>“Right. Um.” Elias visiting the archives is so rare that Jon… doesn’t know what to say, now. The whole thing’s been like a clandestine meeting in the dark, and he can’t shake the warmth of Elias’s hand on his face. <em> Stupid, </em> he berates himself. <em> Pathetic. </em> They can’t afford to behave like this here, even though all Jon really wants is Elias to do it again. Maybe next time. Maybe at home. “Right, have a good night, then.”</p><p>“You too, Jon.” Elias doesn’t linger, just goes, but not before smiling over his shoulder at Jon.</p><p>Then he’s gone, and Jon is left flustered and annoyed and <em> pleased </em> and so, so overtired. He rests his hand where Elias’s had been, briefly, and then forces himself to get back to work.</p><p>He’d made Elias a promise to be finished by ten, and he doesn’t intend to lie.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sometimes you just gotta write them being cute and domestic and only just barely monstrous or manipulative 🙌 </p><p>prompt was caretaking! let elias hold him when he's tired okay</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>